Going Undercover
by jayel7
Summary: The musketeers go undercover to foil a plot that threatens the king. A little bit of everything in this one, including humor and some D'Artagnan h/c. Coarse language and a small amount of sexual content. No slash. Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.


Going Undercover

On an early morning in winter, Aramis, Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan stepped out of the musketeer barracks, Aramis in the lead.

Aramis spread his arms wide. "Look at that! The first snowfall of the season! Nature's perfect white blanket, unmarred by any human imprint." He stepped out into the snow, making tracks with his boots. "Ah! The beauty of nature," he enthused. A snowball hit him squarely in the back of the head, knocking off his hat. He turned around to see Athos ducking behind a post. He responded indignantly. "That kind of sneak attack is unworthy of the Comte de la Ferre!" He scooped up a handful of snow, formed it into a ball and threw it at Athos.

Athos quickly moved D'Artagnan in front of him and it was D'Artagnan who received a snowball to the face. In no time, all four musketeers were out in the snow, hurling snowballs at each other and then they were on the ground, stuffing snow down the back of each other's collars.

D'Artagnan managed to escape having snow put down his collar until he slipped on an icy patch and fell. Instantly, Porthos took advantage, rolling him over on his face and putting snow down his collar. D'Artagnan shuddered. "That's cold!"

Porthos laughed. "You think that's cold? How about this?" He scooped up a large handful of snow, pulled out D'Artagnan's waistband and dropped the snow down the back of his breeches.

"Aw, I can't believe you did that," D'Artagnan complained, rolling around on the ground in reaction to the cold, wet snow in his breeches.

Aramis and Athos looked amused. "Porthos, that was a dirty trick," Aramis said.

"Porthos is good at dirty tricks," Athos said, sounding as if he approved.

"All is fair in love, war and snowball fights," Porthos said. He pulled D'Artagnan to his feet, brushed snow out of his long hair and patted him on the head. "This will teach you that you're never gonna win in a snowball fight with me!"

Captain Treville opened his door and came out on his balcony. He gestured to the musketeers to come up. Once they were in his office, he began, "I have a special assignment-" He broke off. "Why are you lot dripping all over my floor? One would think you'd been out playing in the snow like children."

The musketeers exchanged sheepish looks, but said nothing.

He continued, "And you, D'Artagnan, why are you wriggling around like you have ants in your breeches? Stop fidgeting, boy." He went on, "As I was saying, I have a special assignment. This includes you, D'Artagnan, you will be pleased to know."

D'Artagan put on a happy face.

"I have received a report from an old and trusted friend that there is a plan afoot to harm the king."

"How does your friend know about this," Athos asked.

"My friend Etienne is a widower and since his wife died, he sometimes dines out at an inn called Voyageurs Reste. There's where he heard talk of a plot. Voyageurs Reste is in the Burgundy region in Dijon," Treville explained. "It's a large inn and draws travelers from all over France."

"Why the plot against the king," Aramis wanted to know.

"There is much unrest in Burgundy. During the last ten years or so, the grain harvest has been poor in the region. Not only are the peasants going hungry, but the poor devils are forced to pay taxes beyond their means, while many nobles and bishops of the Church pay none." He went on. "This has caused great resentment as you might imagine. The homes of some of the nobles in the region have been vandalized or destroyed and one member of the aristocracy has been killed. Writings have been found calling for death to the aristocracy and even to the king. While I have sympathy for the peasants, our duty is to protect the king. The people behind this are believed to be in or around Dijon. It's unknown at this point who they are, how many there are and what their plans are for the future. We must identify the plotters and break them up before they can do any harm to his majesty."

Porthos spoke up. "What do you want us to do?"

"You will be going to Dijon, but not as musketeers. You will conceal your identities while you attempt to learn more about the plotters, and you will all be staying at the inn I mentioned. Athos, you will be a wine merchant, looking into purchasing property suitable for a vineyard. Aramis will accompany you as your servant."

Aramis looked at Athos. "Why can't I be the wine merchant and let Athos be _my_ servant?"

"Because no one would ever believe that Athos was a servant."

Aramis started to argue, but thought better of it. "I see your point, Captain," he conceded.

"At least, your duties will be light. D'Artagnan will be working as a stable boy, mucking out the stable and so forth."

D'Artagnan made a slightly disgruntled face.

"D'Artagnan, you will take note of the comings and goings of any suspicious travelers and, as you and Aramis will both be posing as servants, you can easily pass the information on to him."

D'Artagnan broke in, "But Captain, doesn't the inn already have someone who works in the stable?"

"I'm certain that they do, but when Athos and Aramis arrive, he will be bribed to seek opportunities elsewhere. You will arrive shortly afterwards and will apply for the job. Passing on information will be your sole responsibility, D'Artagnan. You are not to involve yourself in any other way. You are still learning about being a musketeer and I'll not have you put in danger. There will be no repeat of what happened to you previously when you nearly got yourself killed by Vadim. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"What about me," Porthos asked.

"You will arrive after the other three, and when we have hopefully learned some of the identities of the conspirators. You will be a mercenary, so you won't have to try to convince anyone of your revolutionary fervor. Your part will be the most dangerous, should your true identity be discovered. Speaking of which, your new identity will be Pierre Dufort. I've chosen names for all of you similar to your own. That should make it easier for you to accustom yourselves to your new identities. Athos, your name will be Armand Ferrier. Aramis, your name will be Alain and D'Artagnan, your name will be Damien."

He opened a desk drawer and handed each of them a pouch containing coins. "For this assignment, you will need clothes appropriate to your identities. Porthos, you can carry your normal array of weapons. Athos, you and Aramis can take one sword each, but keep your weapons out of sight unless needed. D'Artagnan, you can carry a small dagger, nothing more. With the exception of Porthos, you will leave for Dijon day after tomorrow. Athos and Aramis, I would like a further word with you. Porthos, you and D'Artagnan are dismissed."

"What did you want to tell us," Aramis asked, once he and Athos were alone with their commanding officer.

"I want you both to keep a sharp eye on D'Artagnan. You know his tendency to be rash and involve himself in dangerous situations. I want this to be a safe assignment for him, one in which he can learn from the rest of you."

"Don't worry, Captain. You know we'll watch out for him," Aramis promised. "When it comes to D'Artagnan, Athos is like a mother hen with one chick."

"I can't say that I appreciate being called a hen."

"I could say that you're like a rooster with one chick, but that would sound stupid."

"Since when do you care about sounding stupid!"

Treville's patience was wearing thin. "Enough! If you continue with this, you will drive me mad. Out! Both of you."

As they were walking down the steps from Treville's office, Aramis wore a pleased expression. "I'm glad that we don't have to leave tomorrow. This gives me a chance to spend the evening with a certain lady named Lisette."

"I hope that Lisette doesn't have a jealous husband who will want to rearrange your teeth if he finds you together."

"As it happens, Lisette has no husband. I'm looking forward to spending a long night together without having to jump out any windows."

**That Evening**

Aramis and his new conquest hardly tasted the dinner prepared for them by Lisette's cook, both being far more interested in getting upstairs to Lisette's bedroom. As soon as they were in her room with the door closed, they ripped off all their clothes, dropping them haphazardly on the floor.

"My handsome Aramis," she cooed, admiring his physical attributes and running her fingers down his chest and trailing below his navel.

"My beautiful Lisette," he murmured, his eyes on her breasts.

"My very own Greek god," she sighed. "You're nothing like my husb-"

"Husband?" He raised his eyes. "Did you start to say husband? You told me you had no husband."

"I don't have a husband. Not now. Beauregard had our marriage annulled."

"Why?"

"Does it really matter? You want to be with me." She looked down and smiled impishly. "I can see how much you want to be with me."

"Yes, but what happened with your husband?"

She continued to run her hands over him. "Oh, if you must know, Beauregard got upset with me and insisted upon an annulment. It … It so happened that he caught a social disease from me. He didn't take it very well when he found out."

Aramis looked horrified.

Hastily, she sought to reassure him. "It's not like it was a major one, just a very slight one that you'd hardly even notice."

Aramis pulled away from her and began putting back on his clothes. "You must accept my regrets, Lisette, but I suddenly remembered that I have to be elsewhere." He took her hand and barely skimmed it with his lips. "Au revoir, Mon Cherie."

Meanwhile, Athos and D'Artagnan were having a bite to eat at their favorite tavern, Porthos having made other plans for the evening. Although the food was tasty, Athos noticed that D'Artagnan had eaten little of it and seemed uneasy, fiddling with his silverware more than he was eating. "Do you have concerns about the mission," Athos asked.

D'Artagnan seemed startled by the question. "What? No, it's not that. It's … uh …it's that we … um … haven't really talked about, uh …"

"My wife?"

D'Artagnan took a deep breath. "Yes, your wife. You know that I would never, I mean that if I had only known that-"

"D'Artagnan, let me get this straightened out with you so that it never has to be brought up again. I believe you when you say that you didn't know that she was my wife. How could you know? She deceived you. She is experienced in many things that you are not. She seduced you, didn't she? It wasn't the other way around, was it?"

Looking embarrassed, D'Artagnan nodded. He was further chagrined to feel a blush creeping into his cheeks, remembering the way that she had explored the intimate parts of his body with her eyes, hands and mouth.

"She used you," Athos said. "She's a user. She used me, too, and who knows how many other men. She's a liar. She lies about everything. She'll betray anyone who trusts her. She's a faithless wanton and she's responsible for the death of my brother. You don't have to keep apologizing to me for her. I know exactly what she is. There's nothing more that needs to be said."

They were interrupted by the arrival of Aramis, who pulled out a chair from their table and sat down.

"You're back early," Athos remarked.

"Yes, well, things didn't go as planned." Aramis looked over at the food left on D'Artagnan's plate and helped himself to some of it. "There's something to be said for celibacy," he declared. "I'm swearing off on all women."

"You've said that before," Athos commented.

"I mean it this time."

"You've said that before, too, so why are you eating all the oysters on D'Artagnan's plate?"

Aramis thought about it and shrugged. "The night is still young, and I may change my mind."

Two days later, Athos, Aramis and D'Artagnan left for Dijon. Athos was dressed in the well-made, conservative clothing of a prosperous merchant, while Aramis and D'Artagnan wore the rough textured, homespun shirts and breeches of the servant class.

Camping out along the way to Dijon, D'Artagnan's was undeterred by any discomforts, such was his enthusiasm at being a part of the mission. When they reached the outskirts of Dijon, Athos gave him his instructions. "You will camp out here tonight, while Aramis and I check into the inn. Aramis will bribe whoever works in the stable to leave without delay and tomorrow, you will show up at the inn and ask for a job in the stable. Make up some kind of story about how much you need the work and how you've worked in stables before. They'll need someone right away, so you should have no problem getting taken on."

D'Artagnan nodded.

"Aramis and I will ride out each day to see if we can discover where the plotters are meeting. You will pay close attention to those going in and out of the stable and see if you can pick up any information."

D'Artagnan was resolute. "I want to prove to Treville that he was right to send me on this mission."

"Just follow orders. That's all we ask," Athos told him.

The innkeeper was anxious to please as he showed Athos to his room. Aramis followed behind carrying their travel bags. "This is one of our very best rooms, Monsieur Ferrier," the innkeeper told him. "A nice view as you can see, a large fireplace to keep out the chill and a real feather bed. I have inspected the bed myself. No fleas or bedbugs," he added proudly.

"What more could I ask," said Athos.

"It can get rather cold here at night," the innkeeper continued. "You'll want your servant to fetch in wood for the fireplace. Should I provide extra bedding for your man to sleep on the floor, or will he be sleeping in the stable?"

"The stable will be good enough for … Alain. I don't make it a practice to pamper my servants."

"Very well, Monsieur. I expect that I'll see you later downstairs in the dining room," the innkeeper said, taking his leave.

Aramis turned to Athos once they were alone. "I get the feeling that you're enjoying this far too much, Monsieur wine merchant."

Athos looked smug. "Yes, I am."

In the dining room that evening, Aramis accompanied Athos and stood behind his chair, so as to be at his service. At the table next to Athos, a portly man in a florid coat looked over at Athos. "Do you mind if I join you, Monsieur," the man said. "I dislike eating alone."

"By all means," Athos replied graciously.

The man picked up his plate of food and tankard of wine and came over. Setting his dinner on the table, he extended his hand before sitting down. "Gisbert Dupuis is my name."

Athos shook his hand. "Armand Ferrier."

The man sipped his wine. "Are you a traveler like myself?"

"I'm staying in Dijon temporarily," Athos replied.

"I travel all over France. I'm in manufacturing and sales."

Athos feigned interest. "Really?"

"Yes," the man replied. "Chamber pots."

Aramis stifled a snicker and Athos looked at him. "Alain, don't just stand there. Go to the kitchen and find out what's holding up my dinner and be quick about it."

Aramis left.

"I manufacture and sell the finest chamber pots in France. You can have your choice of design – pink roses or white lilies. I was thinking of having the king's portrait painted on some of them, but my wife said it was a bad idea and might even be considered treasonous. I decided to abandon the idea."

"A wise decision."

Aramis returned with Athos's food, setting the plate down on the table with more force than necessary and stepped back behind Athos's chair.

Gisbert Dupuis spoke as though Aramis wasn't present. "Not that it's any of my business, but your man appears to have a rather surly attitude. Were I you, I'd put my foot in his backside."

"You have no idea how often I've been tempted," Athos replied, ignoring the glare that he was certain was aimed at his back. "He is hardly the most satisfactory of servants, but you might say he's grown on me, so I suppose I'll keep him around."

After Athos had finished eating, Aramis went into the inn's kitchen to eat with the other servants. D'Artagnan, the newly hired stable boy, had just sat down at the table and Aramis took a seat beside him. D'Artagnan hungrily eyed leftover rack of lamb with mint sauce, roasted potatoes with chives, freshly baked white bread and dried apple tart. Instead, the large, matronly cook placed in front of the two of them soup of an unknown variety and one slice each of coarse brown bread. D'Artagnan looked up at the cook. "What's this? Don't we get what's left over from the dinner guests?"

The cook gave a booming laugh. "Is that the kind of food you're used to eating my fine young prince?" She pinched his cheek before he could duck away from her. "This is your dinner. The leftovers are packed up for overnight travelers to take with them tomorrow."

"But-"

Under the table, Aramis kicked D'Artagnan's ankle. "You'll have to overlook him. Boys his age are always hungry."

"Be glad you have this," the cook said. "There's plenty that go hungry every night."

D'Artagnan made a face. He picked up his piece of bread. "This looks hard enough to bounce off the table," he muttered to Aramis.

"Eat it and be quiet," Aramis warned him in a whisper. "Remember, you're a stable boy. You're not accustomed to better."

With a small sigh, D'Artagnan began to munch on the hard bread.

When Aramis later went up to Athos's room to bring more wood for the fireplace, Athos picked up the blanket from his bed and handed it to him as he was leaving. "You'd better take this. I don't imagine that the stable is going to be very warm."

"The wine merchant is too kind."

"Take it before I change my mind."

When Aramis climbed the ladder to the stable loft, he found that D'Artagnan was already asleep, covered by a thin, frayed blanket that offered little warmth. Without disturbing him, Aramis removed the blanket and exchanged it for the thick, warm blanket that Athos had given him, taking the thinner blanket for himself.

The following day, Athos and Aramis set out on horseback to scout out the surrounding countryside for possible meeting places for the conspirators. "We could be looking in the wrong places," Aramis said, running his fingers through his unruly hair. "What if they're meeting in someone's house in the local village?"

"That's a possibility, but I don't think they would risk being seen together by the villagers," Athos said. "I think they would prefer a more remote location." That day, and for days afterward, the two men looked at abandoned farmhouses, burned out buildings and even caves, without discovering anything that suggested a meeting place. As Athos mounted up to return to the inn after another inconclusive search, he said, "D'Artagnan hasn't found out anything yet, Porthos should be here any day now and we still haven't come up with the names of anyone he could contact."

Aramis put his foot in the stirrup and swung up into the saddle. "Then we'll have to stay here until we can come up with the information we need."

On the road back to the inn, the musketeers came upon a carriage with a broken wheel. Standing beside the carriage were the driver and two women.

The musketeers stopped and the driver came up beside them. "My relief driver has gone into the village and should be back before long with a spare wheel, but in the meantime, my passengers are stranded here."

Athos and Aramis dismounted and the driver indicated one of the women. "This is Madame Simone Perrault." Athos made her a bow. "I'm Armand Ferrier," he introduced himself. She extended her hand and he touched it fleetingly with his lips. She was a comely, fashionably dressed woman in her late twenties, slender and dark haired.

When she spoke, her voice was soft and cultured. "My maid and I are on our way to Lyon. We were going to stop at a near by inn to have something to eat and to stay the night."

"Voyageurs Reste?"

"Yes."

"In that case, please allow me to escort you to the inn," Athos said. "Do you happen to ride?"

She hesitated. "Very little, I'm afraid."

"Would you like to ride with me? You'll be perfectly safe."

She looked directly into his eyes. "I feel I would be perfectly safe with you, Monsieur. I accept your offer." She turned to her maid. "Bernadette, stay behind with our luggage. You can join me when the carriage is repaired."

"Yes, Madame," the maid replied.

Athos mounted and offered his arm to Simone, swinging her up behind him. She settled her full skirts and put her arms around Athos. They set off at a leisurely pace, Aramis and his horse following behind at a discreet distance. "I'm to be married when I arrive in Lyon," she volunteered.

Athos responded gallantly. "Your future husband is a fortunate man."

She was silent for a moment. "It will be a marriage of convenience. Hubert is a business acquaintance of my father. I'm a widow. My first husband incurred ruinous gambling debts and I have little choice, but to re-marry." She was silent again, then said, "I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I feel somehow as though I know you."

Athos looked back at her. "I'm honored that you feel you can confide in me. Perhaps, you will join me for dinner tonight."

She answered without hesitation. "I would like that very much."

That evening, Athos dismissed Aramis from attending him and he and Simone enjoyed privacy during their meal, concentrating on each other and ignoring the other diners in the room. As they were finishing with their wine, Simone said, "Do you mind, Armand, if I speak very frankly?"

Athos put down his wine. "Say whatever you wish."

"I've never been brave or daring," she began, then paused. "I've always done what was expected of me. I've been a dutiful daughter and a dutiful wife. I married the man my parents chose for me. In a few days, I will be married to another man, one who is kind and will treat me well, but is much older and … somewhat dull. I will be a respectable wife once more. I do not love him, but, of course, one does not expect to marry for love. I will never experience passion with him, but I want so much to experience passion with you. Just for this one night." She stopped, looking uncertain. "I shouldn't have said that. I don't what you must think of me."

Athos reached across the table for her hand. "Simone, I haven't wanted a woman as much as I want you since … since a very long time ago. I can't tell you how much I look forward to being with you tonight."

They went up to Simone's room and Athos closed the door behind them. "We won't be disturbed," she said, "My maid has a room in the attic and she won't be attending me until tomorrow morning." She reached up to his face, stroking his beard and his lips. "I would ask you to make love to me slowly, but I sense you are as eager as I am, so after the first time, promise me that you will go slowly."

Athos kissed her and began unfastening the laces on the front of her dress. "I promise … after the first time."

Early morning light was streaming through the windows when Athos felt Simone's fingers touching his face and then combing through his hair. He awoke and took her hand, pressing it to his lips. "Your maid will be here soon. I should go." He tossed aside the bedcovers and got up. His back to her, he started to reach for his discarded clothes on the floor.

"Wait." She sat up. "Don't put your clothes on just yet. I want to look at all of you one last time before you go. Please indulge me."

"I can't say that I've ever had that request before." He turned around and came back to stand beside their bed. "I'll never forget you, Simone."

"And I'll never forget you and how we made love last night." She smiled at him. "You have the bluest eyes I've ever seen. That's one of the things I'll always remember about you. Your eyes are as blue as for-get-"

He placed his hand to her mouth. "Don't say it. You've banished bad memories of a woman I never want to think about again. For that, I'll always be grateful."

**The Following Evening**

D'Artagnan was currying a horse at the far end of the stable when a man rode in, followed soon after by a second man. They dismounted and took a long, furtive look around, failing to see D'Artagnan, hidden as he was on the far side of the horse. Wary of their manner, he crouched down beside the horse. "Where is the damned stable boy," one of them grumbled.

"It's good nobody's here but us," the other man said. "I ran into Rabin today in the village. He's decided we're to strike the Baron de Talant night after tomorrow."

"The Baron de Talant! Typical aristocrat. We can't wipe them all out soon enough."

The other man swore. "Looks like we'll have to feed the horses ourselves." The man poured grain into a feed trough. "See this! Horses eatin' better than people! Why does Rabin want us to wait before we strike the baron? The sooner we get rid of all the elite sons of bitches, the better." The men walked out, still talking, but not loud enough to be overheard.

D'Artagnan was pleased to see Porthos ride in an hour later. Porthos had discarded his musketeer uniform and hat, but retained the scarf around the head that he frequently wore and he carried his customary weapons.

D'Artagnan related what he had overheard and added, "I've seen them a few times before. Their names are Jarreau and Savel. Jarreau's dark and has a full beard. Savel has red hair. I've never seen the one they called Rabin, but he must be their leader. Jarreau and Savel like to play cards in the inn."

Porthos looked interested. "That's good. I'll have to get in a card game with them."

"I searched their saddlebags."

Porthos spoke sharply. "What if they had caught you?"

"But they didn't and I was careful," D'Artagnan protested. "There was nothing important in their saddlebags. No names or maps or anything."

Porthos gave him a final warning before he went into the inn. "You have to be careful. Treville will kill all of us if anything happens to you."

Frustrated, D'Artagnan watched him go. He scuffed at the dirt floor with his shoe. It was maddening that he wasn't allowed to do more. He wanted to prove himself, not be coddled by the others.

Porthos entered the card playing room, which adjoined the dining area. He spotted the two men D'Artagnan had described and stood for a time, leaning against the wall and watching the action. Savel, the red-haired man, looked up and noticed him as one of the card players got up to leave. Porthos strolled over. "Mind if I sit in," he asked.

Savel answered. "Take a seat." Jarreau, of the bushy, dark beard, made no objection, but gave Porthos a wary look.

Porthos introduced himself. "I'm Pierre Dufort." The other men nodded, but did not offer their names. The game began, and Porthos deliberately let himself lose to Savel. He held up his hands, acknowledging defeat. "I got to earn more money if I play cards with you again."

Jarreau gave Porthos's weapons an open appraisal. "How do you earn your money?"

"My sword is for hire."

"Good with the sword, are you?"

"If you ever found out exactly how good I am, you'd be dead."

Jarreau and Savel exchanged looks. "Are you stayin' here at the inn," Savel asked.

"For the time being."

The two men stood up. "We will meet you here tomorrow night at 8:00 and talk again," Jarreau said.

Porthos hid his elation. "I'll be here." It was only a matter of time, he was convinced, before he infiltrated the plotters.

After the first meeting, things went gratifyingly swift. It was barely a week later when Porthos was invited to take part in a late night raid on the property of one of Dijon's most prominent aristocrats.

D'Artagnan was lying awake in the stable loft when he heard a horse enter the stable and make a snuffling noise. He got up and looked over the edge of the loft and saw that it was Porthos. He went over and shook Aramis awake. "It's Porthos," he said quietly. The two of them climbed down the ladder and met Porthos, who looked grim.

"What happened tonight," Aramis asked.

"Things didn't go as planned," Porthos told them. "The Marquis de Vezelay wasn't supposed to be there, but it turned out that he was there. Savel shot and killed him. We took valuables from the house, things like silver candlesticks, jewelry and gold coins, and then set the house afire. I couldn't prevent the marquis from gettin' shot without givin' myself away. As it is, Jarreau is suspicious of me. He keeps givin' me these looks. Besides Jarreau and Savel, there was another man on the raid named Baptiste. I'm thinkin' there have to be more conspirators than the ones I've met, and I still haven't met Rabin."

Aramis put a hand on Porthos's shoulder. "You've had a tough night, but we're making progress. We'll find the rest of them, including Rabin."

D'Artagnan listened intently, but made no comment.

It was five days later when Savel and Jarreau arrived at the inn at noon, ate and rode out. D'Artagnan saw them leave and decided to follow them. All he intended to do was watch them to see if they met up with other conspirators and then he could report back to Athos or Aramis. This wasn't exactly what he'd been told to do, but there was nothing wrong with following the men, he told himself.

D'Artagnan trailed them as they traveled some distance from the inn. The men appeared to be in no particular hurry, but to D'Artagnan's disappointment, neither did they stop nor have anyone join them. The men approached a line of trees and heavy brush, where they slowed down, but continued to ride. D'Artagnan stopped his horse and watched them. Approaching silently, a man emerged from the brush, reached up and grabbed him by the back of his shirt and dragged him off his horse. He hit the ground and lay looking up at a tall, blond man with a prominent scar across his face. The man pointed a gun at him.

"What have we here," the man said. He gave a shrill whistle, and the men D'Artagnan had been trailing quickly rode back. The blond man gave them a disgusted look. "You careless bastards didn't even know you were being followed!"

Savel reacted with surprise. "It's the stable boy from the inn. Damien, I think his name is. What's he doing here?"

"A good question," the blond man said. "What _are_ you doing here, boy?"

D'Artagnan's mouth felt dry and he swallowed before answering, quickly deciding that a bold approach was best. "I know what you're up to. I mean, I think I know what you're doing and I want to join you."

The men exchanged amused looks. "The stable boy wants to join us," the blond man said.

D'Artagnan sat up and looked at Jarreau and Savel. "I heard these two talking and I know you're fighting against the aristocrats."

The blond man gave his men a hard look. "More carelessness!"

"We didn't know he was around, Rabin," Savel protested.

"He's heard too much," Jarreau said. "We can't let him go. We'll have to kill him."

D'Artagnan scrambled to his feet. "No!" I told you I want to join you. I hate the aristocrats, too."

Rabin gave him a long, assessing look. "And why do you hate them? Tell me."

He decided to repeat the story he had told to the innkeeper when he was hired. "I have a widowed mother and five younger brothers and sisters." He added, "We have nothing and the aristocrats have everything. That's not how it should be."

"Where does your family live," Rabin asked.

"Not here. I mean, not in Dijon, but in Burgundy. A long way from here. I came to Dijon to find work and send money back to my family."

The men studied him, saying nothing, while D'Artaganan waited nervously.

Finally, Savel said, "He could be tellin' the truth." He studied D'Artagnan with a critical eye. "From the looks of him, it's not like he's ever had enough to eat."

Jarreau was less accepting. "What do we need with a stable boy?"

"I'll do whatever you want," D'Artagnan earnestly assured them. "I'll … I'll even kill the king if you want me to."

Rabin laughed. "With that dagger of yours? The king's musketeers would cut you to ribbons. I like your spirit, though, boy." He reached out his hand. "You'd best give me the dagger." Reluctantly, D'Artagnan handed it over. "Get on your horse. I think maybe we'll keep you."

No sooner was D'Artagnan mounted than three other men rode up to join them. One of the three was Porthos. When he saw D'Artagnan, his hand went automatically to the hilt of his sword. D'Artagnan's brown eyes sent him a warning. Porthos's hand relaxed slightly, but the look he gave D'Artagnan was deeply apprehensive.

D'Artagnan followed the others to a remote area where there was an abandoned barn, located near a stream and a burned out farmhouse. They dismounted and went inside where half a dozen more men were waiting, some of them playing cards on a makeshift table made from a hay bale.

"It appears we have a new member," he told the men inside the barn, putting his arm around D'Artagnan's shoulders. "This pretty boy here is Damien. He's been working in the stable at Voyageurs Reste. I don't know yet what I'll do with him, but I'll find a use for him." He pulled D'Artagnan closer and gave him a mocking kiss on the forehead. D'Artagnan stiffened in protest and pulled away. "Is this where you meet," he asked Rabin.

"Sometimes."

"I need to get back to my job at the inn," D'Artagnan said. "My absence will raise questions."

Rabin smiled at him. "No. You'll be staying here with us. The innkeeper will think you decided to leave with no notice and will hire someone else. No one is going to raise many questions about a stable boy."

Rabin walked to the center of the barn. "Gather round," he told the men. "We have new targets. The first one will be tonight. We're going to burn down the vineyards belonging to the Baron de Noyers."

"That's the biggest vineyard in Dijon," one of the men exclaimed.

"Yes, it is. It will take all of us." He glanced at D'Artagnan. "I think that I'll let you come along and take part."

"What about the baron's house," asked another man.

Rabin's tone was brisk. "We'll save that for later. Those of you who are leaving now, be back here at midnight and bring plenty of torches."

Jarreau, Savel and Baptiste sat down to pass the time with a game of cards. Porthos joined them, while D'Artagnan wandered with apparent aimlessness around the barn, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. He wandered near the door and Jarreau looked up from his cards. "Where do you think you're going?"

D'Artagnan's response was casual. "I thought I'd check on the horses and give them some feed and some water."

Baptiste pointed to a corner of the barn. "You'll find feed bags and grain over there."

"Forget about watering them," Jarreau said. "The stream is a little too far away. I want you to stick close by."

Porthos stood up. "I'll take care of watering them."

Jarreau started to object. "It can wait."

Porthos forestalled him. "Horses got to have water. Anyway, I need to take a piss." Porthos walked out and to the side of the barn where D'Artagnan was with the horses. He grabbed D's arm. "Don't talk. Just listen. I may not get a chance to talk to you again. Ever since I got in the group, there's always some of them with me and I can't get a chance to get back to tell Athos or Aramis anything. I don't know how you got here, but watch out for Jarreau. He's a suspicious bloke, and he don't really trust me either."

"I didn't mean to-"

"There's no time for that now. Remember, watch yourself around Jarreau."

Just before dark that evening, Rabin showed up, bringing bread, cheese and wine for those staying in the barn.

After eating, Rabin told them, "Go take a walk or something. I want to speak to Damien alone."

Porthos gave D'Artagnan a warning look, before leaving with the others.

D'Artagnan sat down opposite Rabin, wary of what he might say. Rabin reached out and clasped his arm. "Hey! Don't look so nervous. All we're going to do tonight is burn down a vineyard. It'll be easy."

D'Artagnan relaxed a little. "Do you know the owner of the vineyard?"

"Not personally, no, but I know his kind." Rabin touched his scar. "You know how I got this? From a nobleman I worked for. He raised horses on his country estate. I took care of the horses, breeding them and training them, until he accused me of stealing from him."

D'Artagnan hesitated. "Did you steal from him?"

"I did. I had a wife and child back then. We lived in a village in the mountains. It had been a hard winter and my family was hungry, so I stole to keep them from starving." He paused for a moment, as if remembering. "The man I worked for had a ceremonial sword hanging by his fireplace. He cut me with it and gave me this scar, but I got it away from him and killed him with his own sword. I've been on the run ever since."

He smiled at D'Artagnan. "Don't worry about your own family. I'll see that you get some coins to send back to them." He stood up and walked around, speaking almost dreamily. "One day we'll have thousands of peasants to join us. All over France, we'll put the elites to the sword, all the way to the palace and the king and queen."

That night, D'Artagnan and Porthos joined the rest of the plotters in setting fire to the vineyard. Rabin was beside D'Artagnan, taking obvious pleasure in the destruction. They were in the vineyard section closest to the house, when a man ran towards them shouting, "STOP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING! Brandishing a fire poker, he ran up to Rabin and tried to hit him with it. Rabin dodged and plunged a knife into the man's chest. The man fell dead at D'Artagnan's feet.

D'Artagnan knelt by the man and looked up at Rabin in shock. "You killed him!"

Rabin pulled his knife out of the man's chest and wiped the blood off of it on the victim's shirt.

D'Artagnan dared to protest. "You said all we were going to do was burn the vineyard. Now this man is dead. Look at his clothes! He's no aristocrat."

"No, but he was willing to die for his aristocrat master." Rabin put away his knife. "Anyone is expendable if he stands in the way of justice for the French people. Remember that."

By the light from the flames around them, D'Artagnan saw the fanaticism in Rabin's eyes and a cold chill ran down his spine.

Rabin spoke again. "Soon, we'll strike again and we'll kill anyone who gets in our way. Prepare yourself for whatever you're called upon to do. Our time is coming and one day we will rule France."

During the following two days, D'Artagnan had little to do except take care of the horses and listen to the others talk. Not wanting to get caught in a web of lies, he said as little as possible to the men. Out of boredom, he began playing cards with them. His expressive face tended to signal whatever kind of hand he held and he lost most of the time. He regretted that Porthos had never taught him to cheat. Athos had threatened Porthos with dire consequences if he taught his cheating methods to D'Artagnan, fearing that the boy would try to cheat the wrong man and get himself in serious trouble. After yet another loss, D'Artagnan threw down his cards and got up. He walked past Jarreau, who was sharpening his sword. He looked at D'Artagnan with his usual suspicious expression.

"Stable boy!"

D'Artagnan turned.

"Catch!"

Jarreau threw his sword at D'Artagnan, who caught it by the hilt and automatically turned it as a swordsman would do.

Jarreau stood up, grabbed a second sword and addressed the other men present. "Look how he holds the sword! He's no stable boy. I knew there was something wrong with him from the beginning. He advanced on D'Artagnan and their swords clashed. D'Artagnan showed his skill while the others stood watching in stunned silence.

The barn door opened behind D'Artagnan, momentarily distracting him, and the others charged him. He managed to slash the arm of one of them before they succeeded in getting possession of his sword and putting him on his back.

"What's going on here," Rabin demanded, hurrying into the barn and over to where D'Artagnan lay. Porthos, who had entered with Rabin and another of the conspirators, remained near the door. He rested his hand on his sword, but was uncertain of what his next move should be.

"We have a traitor among us," Jarreau snarled, "Or possibly a spy." He looked at D'Artagnan with fury.

"You have no proof that I'm either a traitor or a spy," D'Artagnan protested.

"He has to be one or the other." Jarreau turned to face Rabin. "No stable boy could ever handle a sword the way he does. We all saw it."

Rabin turned his head away for a long moment, then looked down at D'Artagnan. "You disappoint me, Damien, or whoever you are. There can be no tolerance for spies or traitors."

Jarreau looked in Porthos's direction. "He may not be the only traitor here."

Porthos rushed forward and grabbed Jarreau by the throat. "I've killed men for less than what you insinuate and I'll kill you, you bastard, if you ever again try to say that I'm a traitor." He looked around the group of men, seeing by their expressions that they were not entirely convinced. "I don't put up with traitors any more than the rest of you," he growled. He reached down and grabbed D'Artagnan by the front of his shirt, hauling him upright. Face to face, his eyes locked with D'Artagnan's, willing him to read what was in his mind.

Porthos drew back his hand and hit him repeatedly across the face, as hard as he dared, cutting D'Artagnan's lip and causing it to bleed. Twice, he drove his fist into the boy's stomach, cutting off his breath. Before he could do more, Porthos was roughly shouldered aside by some of the others. Without giving both of them away, he could only stand back and watch as the men beat D'Artagnan to the ground, using their fists and feet on him. D'Artagnan put up his arms to cover his face, and Jarreau delivered a brutal kick between his legs. D'Artagnan groaned and brought his knees up protectively.

Jarreau backed off and looked at Rabin. "I say let's kill him now!"

Porthos tightened the grip on his sword. No matter what the odds were against him, he would take them all on and would fight to his last breath to keep them from killing the boy.

Rabin hesitated before responding. "He'll keep for now. We need to concentrate on making final plans for tomorrow's raid. Tie him up. We'll dispose of him once the raid is over."

Baptiste spoke up. "You said before this was goin' to be a daytime raid. You sure about that? There'll be witnesses who can identify us."

Rabin was adamant. "No, there won't. We'll kill any witnesses. I want the Baron de Noyers to see my face when I kill him."

With some of the conspirators still showing their lack of trust in Porthos, it wasn't until during the raid itself that he was able to slip away and bring the other two musketeers up-to-date. "They're comin' back soon as the raid is over and they'll kill D'Artagnan," Porthos warned them.

"Aramis," Athos ordered, "Go to the stable and get our swords from where D'Artagnan hid them. We have no time to lose."

It was dusk when the armed musketeers burst through the door to the barn, startling Jarreau and Savel. The men had stood D'Artagnan on his feet and Savel had a noose in his hands. Porthos grabbed Jarreau. "Where's Rabin," he demanded. "Where's the rest of the men?"

"Scattered where you'll never find 'em," Jarreau smirked. "As soon as Rabin realized you had deserted us, he knew you for a traitor." Unwisely, he reached for his sword. Athos shoved Porthos aside and made short work of Jarreau, running his sword through him.

"Damn you," Athos muttered to the dying conspirator, "For trying to kill the boy."

Savel failed to put up much of a fight and Porthos soon stuck his sword in him, leaving him bleeding to death on the floor.

"Do you want to go after the others," Aramis asked Athos.

Athos shook his head. "It would be no use. It's almost dark and we can't find their trails in the dark. By tomorrow, they could be anywhere in France. Treville will have to organize a detail to search for them." Athos wiped off his sword and sheathed it, then turned his attention to D'Artagnan. Fury flashed in Athos's eyes as he approached the boy, who stood where Jarreau and Savel had left him. Athos grabbed him and shook him hard. "You foolish, reckless idiot! You almost got yourself killed!" Despite his anger, Athos then clasped him in a brief, tight hug, cradling the back of his head.

Aramis came over and cut the ropes binding D'Artagnan's hands. "We'd better sit him down," he said, guiding him over to the nearest hay bale. Moving slowly, D'Artagnan sat down, letting out a gasp of pain and closing his eyes briefly.

Athos knelt beside him, lightly touching the bruise on his cheekbone and noting the cut on his lip."

"I did that to him." Porthos admitted.

Athos looked at Porthos, a question in his eyes.

D'Artagnan spoke in a tired voice. "Don't blame Porthos."

Aramis offered D'Artagnan a drink of water, which he swallowed thirstily.

Porthos sounded apologetic. "I had no choice but to hurt him. They would've killed us both, but I tried to hold back."

Revived somewhat, D'Artagnan responded with more of his normal spirit. "Hold back? It didn't feel any different when _you_ beat my ass than when they beat my ass!"

"At least, I'm not the one who kicked you in the nuts."

Athos and Aramis both recoiled. "How bad is it," Athos asked him.

D'Artagnan answered reluctantly. "Bad enough."

Aramis questioned him further. "What about other injuries? Anything we should know about? Anything feel broken?"

"No, nothing feels broken."

"We need to get him out of here and back to the inn," Aramis said. "Do you feel like riding, D'Artagnan?"

He nodded.

"Are you certain," Athos asked. "If you need to rest for a bit-"

"I can ride," he insisted with a touch of impatience, "And I want to get out of here now!"

Porthos gestured to the bodies lying on the floor. "What about them?"

"I'll tell the innkeeper to let the local priest know about the bodies," Aramis said.

When they were ready to leave, Porthos gave D'Artagnan a boost into the saddle, noticing how he gasped and couldn't suppress a faint moan.

Once they reached the inn, Athos ordered food and wine to be sent up to his room for the four of them. When the food arrived, they sat down on the carpeted floor, eating beef stew and drinking wine in front of a welcoming blaze in the fireplace.

D'Artagnan ate his food, but looked glum. "Treville isn't going to be very happy with me, is he," he asked the others. "I didn't follow his orders about not getting involved."

"He's going to chew your butt out," Athos said matter-of-factly. He took a sip of wine. "You can count on it."

"We can tell him you didn't mean to disobey his orders," Porthos suggested.

"But that's exactly what he did," said Aramis.

Porthos stroked his chin. "Yeah, you're right. You're gonna get it, D'Artagnan. No doubt about it."

No one said anything for a while, as they concentrated on eating, then Athos spoke up. "We should start back to Paris in the morning, if D'Artagnan is up to it."

"Don't worry about me," D'Artagnan said. He shifted position and winced, his olive skin turning pale. He caught his breath before adding, "We'll get to camp out again and all of us will be together this time. That'll be fun."

Aramis shook his head. "Sleeping on the cold, hard ground with tree roots poking you in the back is fun?"

"Bug bites," muttered Porthos.

"Eating the same cold food every day," added Athos.

"We could have hot food, too," argued D'Artagnan. Porthos has his musket. He could kill some rabbits and we could roast them."

"The last time Porthos went rabbit hunting, he came back with one undersized rabbit which amounted to two bites each for all three of us," Athos said.

D'Artagnan refused to be deterred. "Aramis is a better shot. Porthos could give Aramis his musket to hunt with."

"Nobody touches my weapons," Porthos said, glowering.

"Porthos," D'Artagnan began, then stopped. "Never mind then, but it can still be fun. In Gascony, every fall after the crops were in, we would build bonfires and sit around and tell ghost stories." He looked at the others with a hopeful expression. "Porthos, don't you know any ghost stories?"

"Afraid not."

"Aramis?"

"Do I look like the kind who would know ghost stories?"

"Athos?"

"No."

"None? Surely, you know at least one."

Athos finished the last of his stew. "D'Artagnan, you're becoming a pest."

D'Artagnan gave a defeated sigh and drank the remainder of his wine. He stretched and made a grimace of pain, then rubbed his knuckles across his eyes. "All of a sudden, I'm really sleepy," he said, muffling a yawn.

Athos got up, got a pillow from off his bed and handed it to D'Artagnan. The boy took it and stretched out, while the others continued talking.

"I'll be glad to get back to Paris," Aramis said. "I really miss my hat."

Athos gave him an incredulous look. "Out of all the things to miss in Paris, you miss your hat!"

"My hat is part of who I am."

Porthos said, "I miss not havin' to LET people beat me at cards."

Athos spoke up. "I could say that I miss having Treville tell us how happy he is with us for being part of the King's Musketeers." He stopped and frowned. "Wait a minute. I don't think that's ever happened, has it?"

Porthos looked over at D'Artagnan and said, "He's asleep."

"I put something in his wine to make him sleep," Aramis said. "He probably needs it."

Porthos said, "While he's asleep and can't object, I think you should take a look at him, Aramis. They wasn't playin' with him when they was beatin' on him. I can tell he hurts more than he wants to let on."

Aramis got up and went over to the sleeping boy and knelt down beside him. He pulled up D'Artagnan's shirt and the men saw that his upper torso was covered with dark bruises. Aramis pressed lightly on his ribs, and D'Artagnan flinched, but he could detect no broken ribs.

"Better take a look at the rest of him, too," Porthos advised. "They beat him pretty good."

Aramis unbuttoned D'Artagnan's breeches and pushed them down. There was no abdominal swelling to indicate bleeding, but his lower abdomen and below showed more livid bruising. He pulled up the boy's breeches and re-buttoned them. "He's not going to be able to make the ride back to Paris for at least several more days," Aramis said. "He would be in too much pain."

"That poses a problem," said Athos. "We need to get word back to Treville as soon as possible, so that the rest of the plotters can be chased down."

"I'll go back, while you and Aramis stay with D'Artagnan until he's able to travel," Porthos volunteered.

Athos agreed. "That would be best. D'Artagnan is going to miss not having you along with us, though, when we start back."

"Maybe not too much." Porthos grinned. "I really don't know any ghost stories."

End


End file.
